Chapter 38: Terminal Stage of Love-struck? Beyond Saving, Just Waiting for Death—Part 7

Moreover, Qin Yun was susceptible to persuasion—once he decided to trust someone, it was absolute, while for those he distrusted, he remained unmoved even in the face of irrefutable evidence. Had it been the Yong’an Emperor in his youth—even if he, too, had been ruled by his heart—his years of palace training would have ensured that he thoroughly investigated anyone he loved. After all, what if the person was a trap set by his enemies? To blunder in blindly, knowing nothing, only to realize too late that he’d been ensnared—it was a risk the Yong’an Emperor would never have taken.

But Qin Yun, lacking any experience in court intrigue or sibling rivalry, was almost naively innocent. As the crown prince, he had no real opponents, and no one bothered to teach him the darker arts of politics. For a ruler, it was expected to act with grandeur and integrity, open and aboveboard—a sentiment shared by his ministers, who all hoped for a benevolent sovereign. The Yong’an Emperor never imagined his own death would come so soon; he’d planned to teach the prince the ways of kingship himself once he was older. Unfortunately, he never got the chance.

Now, hearing Qin Yun argue that secretly investigating someone was disrespectful, Qin Ye couldn’t help but find it amusing. He wasn’t laughing at Qin Yun’s innocence per se, but rather at the oddity of finding such a pure soul within the imperial family. In any case, Qin Yun wasn’t destined to be emperor, so his lovestruck nature hardly mattered. After his chuckle, Qin Ye didn’t reproach him further, simply instructing Yang Lao to escort him out and inform him about the Xie family’s situation.

Upon learning the details, Qin Yun frowned. “Minister Xie is upright and an exemplary official. How could his household affairs be in such disarray?” Yang Lao merely smiled and continued recounting what he knew.

“Fanghua… she has suffered so. That concubine is truly abhorrent. Who would have thought Fangzhi, who appears so innocent, is such a person behind the scenes? But Fanghua could never be like that. No matter how unfairly she’s treated, she remains proud, dignified, and resolute—the woman I admire. She would never harbor such grave resentment toward her own father. After all, as the saying goes, our bodies are gifts from our parents. Fanghua is well-read; she would never knowingly violate the teachings of the sages. As a child, how could she hate the father who gave her life?”

Hearing from the Qinglong Guard about Qin Yun’s reaction to the Xie family’s secrets, Qin Ye could only shake his head. No wonder, when it came to matters of the heart, even though both were emperors, one had every advantage yet still failed to win the beloved’s heart. Just listen to what Qin Yun said. If it had been Yun Loutai, he’d offer sympathy and say, “You’ve suffered. You did the right thing; it’s Master Xie who is at fault, unworthy of being your father.” Here lay the difference between the hero and the supporting male.

Qin Ye had little interest in Xie Fanghua’s thoughts or feelings, though he did appreciate her attitude. If seeking revenge against Anguo was somewhat unreasonable and indiscriminate, her vendetta against the Xie family was entirely justified—they had wronged her first. As for the so-called debt of birth and upbringing, if all it meant was raising a child only for them to suffer unspeakable torment, that was no kindness, but enmity. On this, Qin Ye and Yun Loutai were undoubtedly of one mind.

Yun Loutai, too, was ruled by his heart—he’d advanced all the way to Anguo’s capital but was willing to retreat at a word. Was he merely lovesick? No; he had no wish for Yun Nation to grow stronger, nor for its royal family to be remembered in history.

What a joke it would be, to expect a prince whose mother was a foreigner, forced by his royal father in a drunken haze, to feel gratitude toward the imperial family. After his birth, with his mixed heritage, he was cast into the cold palace, neglected, and subjected to the abuse of maids and eunuchs. He was invisible, unknown to the palace’s nobles, called nothing but a “little monster” because of his gray eyes and different appearance. Given such a past, could he possibly feel any attachment or gratitude toward the royal family? People should not imagine things so beautifully.

Had the Yun royal house not been slaughtered by the Yong’an Emperor, Yun Loutai might not have survived, let alone grown up. He was the perfect example of “tragically beautiful, but not strong.” Bullied by maids and eunuchs seeking a sense of superiority, mocked by princes and princesses for his foreign features, he endured countless hardships. If, after arriving in Anguo, he hadn’t been targeted by Huayang, he might actually have developed some fondness for the place.

Both Xie Fanghua and Yun Loutai shared the pain of neglect and abuse from their fathers and others, and thus had much in common. For now, however, as a hostage prince, with Huayang no longer tormenting him, Yun Loutai’s days in Anguo were relatively good. He could study with the princes and princesses, eat and drink whatever he liked at the word of the Empress. No one targeted him, no children of his age pelted him with stones or beat him for amusement, and no consort of his father came to vent her frustrations on him. Occasionally, Qin Ye would see Yun Loutai, who always appeared well-behaved and sensible—a little prince, beautiful and perfect, tinged with melancholy. Qin Ye was quite fond of the child.

Thus, Qin Ye planned to watch the love and hate play out among these three youngsters—from the sidelines, of course. But before that, he intended to destroy Yun Nation.

Qin Ye had previously sent agents to conduct business in Yun Nation, with excellent results. In Anguo, as these were his own people, he couldn’t be too forceful unless someone committed serious crimes. Yun Nation was a different story. Noble families? Landlords? He struck them all down, then redistributed their lands. The moment the call for land reform was raised, Yun Nation’s commoners were all too eager to welcome the new regime.

In Anguo, many were anxious, fearing Qin Ye’s blade might turn on them. He had wealth and an army now—if he wanted to act, he certainly could. But instead, he chose to reassure them. Don’t worry, he said, I only targeted Yun Nation’s gentry—they are the enemy. No matter how ruthless I am with them, I wouldn’t treat my own people that way. So long as you don’t break the law or hand me incriminating evidence, you’re safe.

His reassurances worked. With Yun Nation gone, the story began anew: Qin Ye sent word to Yun Loutai—he was free. No longer a hostage, just an ordinary citizen of Anguo, free to do as he pleased as long as he didn’t rebel.

Yun Loutai was a bit bewildered—just like that, he was free? The emperor’s attendant, sent to see him out of the palace, waited patiently for him to collect himself. In the end, Yun Loutai walked out of the palace alone. He had no money; the messages from Yun Nation had only exhorted him to remember his country’s destruction and his family’s enmity—if he forgot, he’d be Yun Nation’s greatest sinner. But as for money, not a coin had been sent; he’d eaten and drunk at Anguo’s expense, but as a hostage, that was expected.

Now, no longer a hostage, he left the palace penniless and without a single servant. The little eunuch who had come with him from Yun Nation, sent by the ministers to watch over him, had defected to Anguo—leaving Yun Loutai all alone.

In the end, it was Qin Ye who lent him some money. As the protagonist, Yun Loutai couldn’t be left in such straits. His mother had once had a childhood sweetheart, the greatest martial artist of the grasslands. After she was forced into Yun Nation’s palace and bore Yun Loutai, she soon died for want of medicine and the right to summon an imperial physician. When Asar of the grasslands finally found the palace, all he found was the child she’d left behind. From then on, Yun Loutai survived only under Asar’s protection.

When Anguo attacked Yun Nation, Asar had planned to take Yun Loutai away, but news came from the grasslands—the Empress of Rong was nearly at their doorstep. Asar had to return at once, intending to fetch Yun Loutai later. While he was gone, Yun Loutai went from obscure cold palace prince to crown prince, only to be sent as a hostage to Anguo.

Unlike Yun Nation, Asar had no way to come and go freely in Anguo’s palace and had to seek news from outside. Luckily, what he heard was not bad—Yun Loutai’s life there was an improvement over Yun Nation. Now that Yun Loutai had left the palace, Asar came to find him immediately.

Yun Loutai had learned martial arts from Asar, though he rarely showed it. He was highly skilled, yet in his years in Anguo’s palace, he’d lived as an ordinary person. Anyone meeting him would take him for an invalid. Even the most hardline Anguo ministers, who clamored for his execution to eradicate future trouble, would fall silent at the sight of his frail form.

When Qin Ye ordered Yun Loutai’s release, no one was more alarmed than the Anguo ministers. Even if the emperor were merciful, surely the boy should be imprisoned for life—let him enjoy riches, but never freedom. Yet Qin Ye simply let him go. Qin Ye only smiled at their protests. What did they know? If Yun Loutai were truly so formidable as to restore his nation from such a position, Qin Ye would accept his loss as a fair outcome—after all, it would just mean he’d been outmatched.

But by setting Yun Loutai free, all those would-be restorationists who might try to use him as bait would fall right into his trap. With their schemes exposed, eliminating them would be easy—then all their lands and hoarded wealth could be put to use for the people’s benefit. The only one who understood Qin Ye’s thinking was Ji Cheng.

With Yun Nation destroyed, Ji Cheng had returned from the frontier to the imperial court, clearly set to become the next Grand Secretary. Wen Ding’an was simply too old now, though he hadn’t resigned. Every time he attended court, he looked as if his eyesight had failed and preferred not to be troubled by anything, great or small. Qin Ye didn’t mind; instead, he heaped Wen Ding’an with honors: permission to enter the palace in a sedan chair, a seat granted during court sessions, and finally, the title of Imperial Tutor to the Crown Prince.

Ah, but what if there was no crown prince? Then simply appoint a new one. Qin Ming was named crown prince, and not a single courtier objected.